


The List

by whoa_omo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental wetting, Accidents, Desperation, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting, intentional wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoa_omo/pseuds/whoa_omo
Summary: Fed up with unrealistic omorashi fic, Remus makes a detailed list to guide him as he explores his kink.*this is slightly AU: Remus has a computer/the internet and isn't afraid to use it lol
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue: The List

Remus sighed as he clicked the back button in his browser. Another unrealistic story. This time, the main character had managed to pee for “over five minutes.” Remus rubbed at his forehead as he thought about that. He’d never timed himself, but he _knew_ it didn’t last that long no matter how desperate he was.

Why had he never timed himself? He was curious, now, because of the story, but why hadn’t it ever occurred to him before? Ah well. He could change that now. In fact, he could let all the bad stories (and _definitely_ all the good stories) inspire him. There was so much he’d never done in the pursuit of a full-bladder experience. So much. He closed the browser and opened a text editor.

__

  * Time yourself peeing when desperate. Make it last as long as you can.
  * Measure your urine when you’re especially full.
  * Pee into towels, then use the wet towels to masturbate.
  * Hold while sitting for so long that when you stand up, it flows uncontrollably down your legs.
  * Arrange to be stuck in restrictive clothing. Securely knot a pair or pajama pants? Wait until you have to hold yourself with a hand to keep from weeing. You can’t get your pants untied with just one hand and you can’t let go of yourself, so you have to choose between standing there soaking your pants to the floor and leaving a puddle or sitting on the toilet as is and pissing through your pants.
  * Wet yourself sitting on the couch.
  * Wet yourself standing in front of the windows.
  * Wet yourself in the kitchen.
  * Wet yourself in the hallway.
  * Wet yourself in the bathroom, looking at the toilet and choosing not to use it.
  * Wet yourself because you bent over.
  * Wet yourself because you leaned against the kitchen counter.
  * Wet yourself because of boiling water.
  * Wet yourself because of running water - as you get a drink, fill a pot, etc.
  * Wet yourself while washing dishes. You cannot touch yourself with your wet hands until your wee is done.
  * When desperate:
    * Push directly on your bladder.
    * Rub ice over your bladder.
    * Dribble cold water over your bladder.



__

Remus read back over his list and frowned. It was a decent start, but there was definitely untapped potential there. He’d be thinking about it near constantly, he knew, so it would be easy enough to continue coming up with new items to add. The challenge would be remembering them until he returned to his computer - he didn’t dare write them down on spare scraps of parchment in case someone found them.

Well, he ought to get started on the list. No time like the present. He stood from his computer and headed for the loo.


	2. Chapter 1: Waits and Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus measures his urine.

_No time like the present. He stood from his computer and headed for the loo._

Remus stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He needed to go, fairly badly even, but he wasn’t desperate yet. It was mid-afternoon, he had no plans for the rest of the day, and he lived alone. He ought to get properly desperate and try to both measure and time himself. That decided, he turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen to look at his measuring cups.

The largest one he had measured up to 1000 mL. He assumed that would be more than enough; hadn’t he read something recently in which the desperate character had measured his urine at 500 mL? Remus didn’t dare use a 500 mL cup, though, in case his bladder held more than that character’s. He wasn’t so assured of his ability to pause his stream, empty the measuring cup, and resume again. 1000 mL it was. He should go ahead and put it on the lid of the toilet so he didn’t forget to use it when the time came.

But first, another drink.

* * *

Remus sat on the couch.

Well, _sat_ might have been overstating the facts a bit. His arse was on the sofa cushion, but so was one leg, curled tightly underneath him. His heel pressed almost uncomfortably against his perineum, but the pressure was either helping him hold or distracting him from his almost overwhelming need. He honestly wasn’t sure which, but it hardly mattered. His thighs were practically glued together, one hand between them holding on for dear life. He wasn’t sure if he could make it to the toilet after all.

He took another sip of water.

Mistake. Big mistake. He knew how the human body worked, knew the water didn’t just teleport straight into his bladder, but none of that knowing actually _mattered_ when faced with the facts: he took a sip of water, and his bladder screamed.

He set his glass down hastily, barely noticing when some of the water sloshed over the side. His hand joined its partner on his penis and squeezed. He very slowly, very carefully uncurled himself, pulled his leg out from underneath himself, and slowly, slowly stood up. He had to stop halfway and clutch desperately at himself, breathing heavily, to keep the flood contained. No matter what else happened, if he got to that measuring cup? Oh, Merlin. He was sure to get an accurate reading of exactly how much liquid he was capable of holding. He was right at his limit.

The short walk to the toilet felt longer than it ever had. Twice, he had to stop and cross his legs, bend over, moan, and dance a little bit from side to side to keep it all contained. Finally laying eyes on the toilet only made things worse; his potty dance expanded to a full body wriggle as he clawed desperately at his zipper, left hand stuffed inside his trousers to hold more directly.

Finally though, _finally_ , he was free and aimed at the measuring cup and letting go before he actually gave his body the signal. Fuck. It was perfect. Right at the edge of wetting himself but barely making it in time.

To his surprise, he was passing the 500 mL mark with no signs of slowing down. He still needed to go. He watched the urine level in the measuring cup rise, dimly noting that he’d forgotten to time himself in his urgency. 900 mL. 950 mL. Shit, he was going to have to stop mid-stream. 1000 mL. He groaned aloud as he paused himself, pulling the measuring cup from beneath his penis and dumping it into the sink. He quickly replaced it and continued urinating.

1450 mL.

Merlin’s sweet arsehole, that was a lot of pee.


	3. Chapter 2: Dribbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus tries something brand new. Will he love it or hate it?

_Leak slowly into your pants as your bladder fills. It should not be a big leak, just a small one. Try to keep it invisible as long as you can, but your pants will soon become pretty wet. Let some pee out every thirty minutes until you can’t hold anymore or until your pants are too wet to continue._

Remus had wet himself on quite a few occasions in his past, mostly accidental but some on purpose, but never before his list had he contemplated slowly weeing in his pants without a full wet. It was a bit odd to consider doing, but then again, his entire list was a bit odd to consider doing, to most people.

He thought about this list item for days before actually doing it. He needed to start his leaks before he got too needy, to be sure he could let some out more than just a couple of times. Since it was his first time, he decided to take notes so he could study how it went and adjust his approach for the next time. He pulled out a piece of parchment just as his bladder twinged for the first time. Perfect timing, then. But on second thought, he didn’t really want anything lying around with his detailed notes on wetting himself. He opened his text editor and started typing.

_15:00 - first sign from bladder. Changed into wetting clothes (fireworks boxers, red plaid pajamas). Let out the first leaks. May have let out too much - I can’t feel any need for the toilet anymore. I suppose time will tell if I overdid it. I let out enough that the crotch of my boxers is soaked from arsehole to the top of my pubic hair, and the insides of the legs are soaked as well. Nothing ran down my legs, and my pants are almost completely dry (one damp spot just beneath the fly). Set a timer for 30 minutes. Drained a caffeinated drink - caffeine is supposed to make your drinks go through you more quickly, fill your bladder more quickly. Still, look at the time. This will be my only caffeinated drink today._

_15:15 - I’m sitting at my desk in wet pants. I got up to see if my pee had soaked through the pajamas and onto my chair, but the chair remains dry, as do the pajamas. I had to see it, though. I pulled down my pants to examine the wet spot - can you call it a wet spot if it’s half your boxers? So glad I chose my fireworks boxers to wee into. Their white interior really shows off the wetness nicely. Went and filled a large glass with lemonade; the plan is to finish it before the timer goes off._

_15:30 - the timer went off, and I quickly swallowed the last sip of lemonade. I went to the kitchen to get more and to wet somewhere different. It’s easier for me to let some out on purpose if I’m standing with my feet apart, kind of like I would in front of a toilet but without holding myself. I poured more lemonade and leaked into my pants, this time only two small spurts - well, that’s what I tried to do, but after those two spurts I had a hard time stopping myself despite not feeling too much urgency. In the end, I think I spurted four or five times, all short. When I was back at my desk, I checked my crotch and found it drier than it was after my last wet, but there’s now a significant wetness on my inner thighs. I’m really enjoying this slow wetting. Sitting around in my wet pants is just … I love it. So much more than I was expecting. I can already tell that I’ll be doing this again._

_15:50 - really feeling it now. If I were a normal man, or today were a normal day, I would go to the toilet right now. Instead, I’m going to hold it. It’s almost time to let more out, anyway. Maybe that will help this fullness._

_16:00 - tried to let out one spurt, let out three accidentally. It wasn’t easy to stop, but it wasn’t super hard, either. Sitting at my computer again, my legs are both bouncing rapidly to distract me from my need._

_16:10 - the urgency has abated. I can still feel that I’m fairly full, but I no longer feel like I need to give this endeavor up and pour a flood into the toilet._

_16:30 - For some extra fun, as a treat to myself, I decided to pull down my pants and watch the wee fall from my cock into my boxers. It was great. First the urine falls through the air, which is fun in its own right, and then it pools all shiny in the crotch of your boxers before slowly filtering through the fabric and running down. My pajamas are now fairly wet in the crotch and inner thighs._

_16:50 - the urgency is back, oh Merlin, is it back. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop wetting when I leak in ten minutes._

_17:00 - I stopped the leaking … eventually. I went to the loo so that if I couldn’t stop wetting, at least it would be on a floor that isn’t carpeted - much easier to clean. I let loose a single leak and managed to stop myself after it, but then I decided to pull down my pants and look at the wetness (just because I like to). When they were down, I leaked some more. It fell into my boxers, at least; I’m glad I didn’t waste any pee on the floor or anything. My accident was seven spurts this time, much more than I hoped to lose. I still need to go quite badly, though._

_17:15 - I’ve tied my pajamas in knots to ensure an accident. No more pulling down my pants to see the wetness, no more “I could always run to the toilet.” I’ll leak in my pants until I can’t hold anything in anymore, and then I’ll flood my pants. The knots will keep me honest._

_17:30 - my leak was pretty big this time. It wasn’t spurts or dribbles or even jets; it was a strong stream that lasted for about three seconds without pause. It ran down my left leg and into my sock. Oh, Merlin, I have got to pee. I’m sitting down with both legs bouncing, thighs pressed tightly together, intermittently crossing my legs. I haven’t needed to grab myself yet, but I’m sure it’s coming._

_17:50 - gotta go gotta go gotta go!! My need has driven me to grabbing myself twice now, though I’ve managed to let go pretty quickly without letting any pee out. Yet._

_18:00 - I have to go so badly. I know if I let any out, I definitely won’t be able to stop. I’ve leaked accidentally twice now. I’m only able to hold on by holding myself with one hand and crossing my legs around my hand and bouncing almost frantically. I tried rocking in my seat, but it didn’t help. I’m going to see if I can hold on a little while longer before wetting completely._

_18:20 - Oh, that was fun. I waited until my leaks were coming once a minute, then slowly scooted my chair back from the desk. I was sure that if I stood up, it was all over, but I managed to hold on all the way to the bathroom. (Well, I say I held on. I was leaking seriously.) I tried to wait even longer, but it was coming out despite everything I was doing to hold it. It just poured down my left leg first, then spread to my right as well. I was soaked and happy. I didn’t want to clean it up, but it cooled quickly and wasn’t as much fun anymore._

Remus sat back from his computer and smiled. It had been a good day, playing with his bladder and discovering a new facet to his favorite kink. He was done leaking on purpose, he figured, but he’d had enough to drink that he was certain he could squeeze out at least one more extremely full bladder. A good day? Make that a _great_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still taking requests for chapters for this fic and for unrelated ideas as well!


	4. Chapter 3: The Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a flashback chapter, Remus recalls an incident during a field trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by Dietcokediamond

_Get desperate somewhere with no toilets. Bonus points for being around a crush or for wetting yourself visibly. - **Does 5th year count?**_

It was Remus’s fifth year at Hogwarts, the year the Muggle Studies class took a field trip into muggle London. The Marauders had all been looking forward to the chance to leave the castle, the novelty of going into muggle spaces, and the rumor that this year’s field trip would include a muggle movie and muggle food. Remus was almost as excited as Sirius.

“Tomorrow!” his exuberant friend said, bouncing on his toes at the side of Remus’s bed.

“Yes, Sirius.”

“What kind of movie do you think it will be?” Sirius asked, stepping closer and looking over Remus’s shoulder at his Transfiguration homework. “You have four days on that assignment. Put it down and be excited with me.”

He did, and they chatted about what might happen on the trip, what pranks they could safely play in muggle areas, and how Peter was going to react to the movie, given that he’d been ill the day they were discussed in class. Eventually, Remus managed to steer Sirius’s enthusiasm to packing a bag for the day. They argued over what to include, but in the end, they each packed a light jacket; some snacks that they hoped would be unremarkable among muggles; and the required Muggle Studies text, muggle notebook, and muggle pen. Remus also tucked a slim novel into his bag in case there would be any boring waiting.

The next morning found Remus packing bags for his two other friends as they rushed to get ready at the last minute. Still, the Marauders all made it to breakfast before the food disappeared, and they were among the first to queue up in the Entrance Hall. Out of their class of 47, 24 were in Muggle Studies, divided fairly evenly among Houses. They only had a few minutes before their portkeys were scheduled to leave, but Remus was certain he could go to the loo in that time easily. It was nothing urgent, but it would be nice to start this adventurous day with an empty bladder.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, and Remus flinched at the high-pitched sound and remained where he was. “Alright, students, we’re all present and accounted for, so let’s get moving! If you need to transfigure any part of your outfit, please do so immediately. Divide into groups of four and make your way to one of the chaperones, who have the portkeys.

“Remember that you are representing Hogwarts, whether the muggles know it or not. Any poor behavior will be punished upon our return, and any stellar examples of a Hogwarts student will be rewarded at the same time. Make your Houses, your school, and yourselves proud.”

Remus and his friends had checked each others’ outfits before breakfast, and they were a happy group of four, so they moved to their favorite of the chaperones just in time to claim him before a group of Hufflepuffs could. Jason was an older cousin to James who had much the same sense of humor as the Marauders and would join in their antics rather than try to quell them.

The portkeys deposited them inside of a run down building, and Professor Santore did another head count before leading them outside to the waiting bus. Remus glanced back at the building and was surprised to see _Hogwarts School for the Gifted_ painted beautifully on a well-maintained structure. On second thought, he didn’t know why he was surprised; the actual Hogwarts was disguised from muggles as ruins, so why not do the reverse for their pretend muggle school?

It was a 20 minute drive from the fake school to their first stop of the day, and Remus noticed only when he and Sirius stood from their seats that there was a toilet at the back of the bus. Another missed opportunity, then. Good thing he didn’t feel much need yet. They filed out of the bus with the other students and took the handout (handwritten and charm-copied on muggle printer paper) from Jason that they were expected to complete during their morning visit to the museum.

_Name one surrealist painter from the 20th century._  
When did mammoths die out?  
List three items or events found in the museum that are/were magical in fact. Describe both the truth and the muggle explanation. 

Remus smiled at his page. Nothing looked too difficult, especially with permission for his group to all work together on it. They moved through the museum, enjoying the opportunity to gape at the muggle life without having to hide it - plenty of others in the museum were excited about what they found, too.

They were meeting back up at the front with the rest of the class when Remus was reminded of his bladder with a sharp twinge. There was no question that he needed to go, but Professor Santore was conducting another head count and taking up everyone’s papers. The next thing he knew, the entire class was filing out of the museum and into the bus.

The bus! There was a toilet at the back.

That was out of order.

Crap.

He returned to his seat, casually crossing his legs as he settled in beside Sirius. “You okay?” his friend asked.

“Oh, yeah, fine,” Remus answered as smoothly as he could. He didn’t want Sirius to know his problem, and the other boy was shockingly good at reading Remus. He wanted to uncross and recross his legs, bounce his knees up and down, but he pushed those urges away in favor of hiding his distress from Sirius. “Where are we going for lunch?”

Sirius looked thoughtful. “Some place called McDonan?”

“McDonalds?” Remus asked. He pressed a hand on his knee and pushed down lightly to keep his legs from starting to bounce.

“Yeah, that sounds right. You know what it is?”

His mother had taken him as a child. Remus smiled at his friend and tried to explain the restaurant to him in the remaining time driving to their destination.

It was just his luck that the restroom was closed for cleaning when they arrived, and their stay was so short that the (apparently rather slow-moving) employee was still working on it as they left. As the students all settled into their seats on the bus, Remus couldn’t keep from bouncing his leg urgently. He had to go. He had to go _so badly_.

“Remus, talk to me,” Sirius said urgently but quietly, leaning in to Remus’s ear and making the younger boy blush at the proximity. And at what he was about to say.

“I … I need to pee,” he admitted. “Badly.”

Sirius nodded and bit his lower lip as he looked Remus up and down. “Isn’t there a toilet on the bus?”

“Out of order,” Remus groaned.

“Oof,” Sirius said softly, setting a hand on Remus’s shoulder. The contact made Remus smile and blush, then swear and hunch over slightly as a pang raced through his bladder. “Pretty bad?”

He nodded. “Siri, I haven’t had to go this badly since first year in McGonagall’s class.” That had ended with him wetting his robes in the hallway on the way to the loo. “You gotta help me,” he whispered, right hand settling high on his thigh and clenching at his trousers. He wanted to hold himself so badly.

“Hang on a second.” Sirius stood and slipped out of his seat, climbing carefully over Remus’s tightly wound legs. Remus didn’t turn to follow his friend with his eyes as Sirius headed toward the back of the bus. Across the aisle, James leaned over.

“Remus, are you okay?”

A rush of urgency swept through Remus, leaving him gasping. He had to go _now_. “No,” he panted.

“What’s wrong?”

Remus found his hand burying itself in his crotch quite without his permission, but it held in the leak that was threatening. “Gotta wee,” he whispered.

James nodded and offered an uncertain smile. “We’ll be at the cinema soon. We’ll help you get to the toilet.”

Sirius reappeared at that moment, frowning. He crouched down in the aisle between Remus and James, casting an amused look at the oblivious Peter staring out the bus window. “There’s a lot of traffic between here and the cinema,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry, Remus. Jason said it’ll be at least twenty minutes.”

A spurt of urine bloomed at the tip of Remus’s cock as tears gathered in his eyes. “I can’t wait that long,” he said quietly.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, and Remus swore as a second small spurt escaped his control.

“Remus needs the loo,” James explained before turning back to his desperate friend. “Are you … totally sure you can’t wait until the cinema?”

He nodded, squeezing desperately and managing to stop this leak.

“Okay, this is going to sound awful, but hear me out, okay? You’re obviously struggling and in pain, and if you know you won’t make it anyway, there’s no point in hurting yourself. I think you should just … let go. Just do it. Now, before it hurts you any more.”

Remus stared at James, heat rising on his cheeks at the suggestion. “I couldn’t,” he replied softly, cutting his eyes briefly at Sirius. James shot an understanding smile back at him, but it looked worried.

“You should,” Sirius said. “Look, James and Peter can be lookouts, and I can clean up any mess before anyone else notices.”

“We’re not meant to use magic,” Remus argued. A longer leak escaped him; he regained control by grasping himself with both hands and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said firmly. “You’re my Remus. I won’t let you walk around uncomfortable, even if it gets me a detention.”

Remus was about to not have a choice. “Sirius,” he gasped, hunching over further.

“I’m ready,” the older boy said calmly, setting a hand on Remus’s shoulder and rubbing gently. “Let go.”

The first spurt burst out without Remus’s permission, and he found he could only slow it, not stop it. He was wetting his pants, fifteen years old and wetting himself in front of _Sirius_ of all people. The only choice he had left was to relax and let the pee flow out of him, feel that relief, or keep fighting and struggling as the pee flowed out of him anyway. He took a deep breath, met Sirius’s worried eyes, and consciously relaxed.

Pee fled his body at high speed, and he immediately tensed back up, the sensation of toileting in his pants striking him as wrong no matter how much relief he was getting from it. “Relax,” Sirius urged, practically crooning in his ear as he flipped his wand through the motions for a drying spell. Remus had to focus to unwind his tense muscles, but as the pain subsided into relief as his bladder deflated, relaxing became easier and easier. By the time his bladder was fully empty, he had melted sideways, his face buried in Sirius’s shoulder. The older boy threaded his fingers through Remus’s hair and scratched gently.

“James cast something to remove the smell,” Sirius murmured into Remus’ hair. “You’re clean, dry, and smelling fresh. Nobody but us Marauders knows what happened. You know it won’t get out. We keep bigger secrets than this.”

The reminder of bigger secrets eased Remus’s mind more than anything else. It was true. His friends had proven themselves true over and over, kept more secrets than an ancient tomb, and were always, always, _always_ there for him, no questions asked. He could trust them with his accident.

**Author's Note:**

> Would LOVE to hear from y'all what other things you would put on this list! Must be omo-centric, but solo, partnered, at home, in public ... my Remus will try almost anything once.


End file.
